I force myself to look away because I’m thinking that any fool could read my thoughts about this stranger, and I watch the woman at his side. Zoe Feller is instantly recognizable, even if I hadn’t attended the same parties with her, or seen her in almost every Oscar-nominated movie she’s ever made. Zoe looks fragile, but don’t let that fool you. She is driven by her work, immersing herself in her roles so completely that, for the length of the project, she is her character.
I watch her walk beside the cowboy and immediately decide they are most definitely not a couple. In fact, I almost wonder if she is even aware of his presence. She seems, instead, to be totally focused on Jeremy. Her blue eyes burn feverishly as she walks purposefully toward him, slowing to an almost regal pace as she draws closer, then stopping and, if I’m not mistaken, bowing her head and half-genuflecting.
“You’re back,” she breathes. “I thought you’d never come.”
Jeremy’s expression doesn’t change, but his eyes do. I am learning to read the man now, I think, and it is always the eyes that give him away. He has locked onto Zoe with an intense, cold stare, as if he’s daring her to question him. I shiver involuntarily as I watch her flinch and take one tiny step backward.
“Why are you here?” Jeremy asks, but it is not his voice any longer. I hear the words, but still can’t believe the change in him. The tone is deep, sonorous and commanding. It is the voice of a much larger, stronger man, but still, it is coming from the actor beside me.
“There are details,” Zoe says softly. “I thought we should go over them before we shoot tomorrow’s…”
“And I told you that I would summon you when I wanted you. Why are you here?”
Zoe raises her head, and I realize we are watching a scene in progress. Her eyes lock with his, briefly—long enough for me to see anger and pain, defiance that is quickly replaced by submission.
“I. Need. You,” she says, each word uttered in a halting gasp, almost forced from her against her will.
Jeremy smiles, and it is the cruelest of his expressions because he is lording it over the poor woman. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Indeed you do.”
The cowboy makes his move, stepping between them and breaking the mood with his body.
“Can you two knock this shit off a minute? We’ve got problems.”
Zoe tosses her head impatiently, starts to protest, and is silenced by a look from Jeremy.
“Sure, buddy. What’s up?” Jeremy says.
How in the hell has he just done this? I wonder. Jeremy’s voice has switched from Lord of the Manor to western ranch hand. His tone is two octaves higher and slightly squeaky. I look at his eyes and see nothing but a happy glint. Whoever this cowboy is, Jeremy genuinely likes him.
The cowboy looks in my direction, lets his gaze move to encompass Mark and Andrea, and I hear him say, “We need to talk. Privately.”
“Lovely manners,” I murmur softly, just loud enough for Jeremy to overhear but not loud enough to reach the oaf in the cowboy hat.
Jeremy laughs, looks at the cowboy, and says, “I think Miss Rothschild finds you a bit coarse, Sam.”
I feel my face start to flush and the cowboy says, “That would be her problem, not mine.” He looks at me again, only this time giving me a real thorough up and down. He appears not to like what he’s seeing.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he says, touching the brim of his hat in a mock salute. “I don’t always have time to coddle Jeremy’s lady friends. You see, we have real work to do around here and right now, I have business I need to discuss with your boyfriend. So if you’ll excuse us, I’ll be sure and get one of the maids to show you where you can powder your pretty little nose while you’re waiting on lover boy here.”
Marlena wakes up, no longer able to sleep with the cosmic energy becoming so disturbed around her, cracks one sleepy eye in the cowboy’s direction and hisses.
“Just exactly who died and made you God?” I say, and start to move past Jeremy to plant myself right in front of the overblown bully. “I am not a plaything. I am not a bimbo. I am a guest of Mr. Reins and I do not appreciate rude behavior.”
I spin around to look at Jeremy. “If he were my hand, I’d fire him.”
“If I were your ‘hand’ as you call it, I’d quit!” the cowboy says.
“Well?” I say to Jeremy. “Are you going to let him talk to me like that?”
Jeremy seems to be enjoying himself at my expense. He grins and then says, “Aw, now, Porsche, don’t mind Sam. He might not come on smooth like you’re used to, but his heart is in the right place. He’s my manager, and when he says he has a problem, well, believe me, I’d better go hear what it is.” He looks back at the cowboy, his grin slowly growing wider. “Sam, this is Porsche Rothschild. I’m helping the poor dear out a bit. She’s hosting a charity party and doesn’t have a date, so she’s here for the week, slumming.”
Before I can protest, Jeremy looks at Andrea and inclines his head in my direction. “Lovey, why don’t you help Porsche get settled in while I borrow your hubby and try and sort out this mess, all right?”
“But what about me?” Zoe wails. “I need you, too!”
Jeremy looks at Zoe and becomes the king again. “Wait in the library,” he says coldly. “I’ll come find you when I’m finished.”
The men walk away without a backward glance. Zoe appears to have lost herself in her role again because she is following three yards behind Jeremy, head down, pacing slowly back into the mansion.
“What in the hell is going on here?” I manage to ask Andrea.
She shrugs. “Welcome to Hollywood,” she says. “Where nothing is real, true or genuine. Everyone is trying to be someone or something else and no one is ever satisfied with things as they are.”
“So, do Zoe and Jeremy have a thing or what? I mean, why does she act that way with him?”
Andrea smiles. “It’s the project. She’s totally immersed herself in it, not just her role, but in the entire project. It’s Zoe’s concept, after all, and she and Jeremy are co-EP’s—executive procedures—on it.”
“Oh,” I say, nodding but not really understanding at all.
“Apparently Zoe’s been spending a lot of time finding her muse and exploring her spirituality. She’s like that, you know. Anyway, somehow in the process of all this, she read about some of the more ancient pagan rituals and religions. That’s where the idea came from for the script. She plays the love interest to Jeremy’s high priest or something. I think it’s a domination theme, you know, she’s the subservient follower to his Rasputin.”
I am about to say something really awful, like, who in their right mind would adore Jeremy Reins, but stop when I remember the way Jeremy transformed himself into a complete Adonis in the Peloponnesian War epic that got him nominated for an Oscar last year. Before either of us can continue, the security gate at the end of the driveway swings open and a white cargo van begins winding its way toward us with the two bodyguards, Scott and Dave, sitting in the front seats.
“Good,” Andrea says, sighing. “I feel better knowing they’re here.” She looks at me and makes a hasty attempt to retract her statement. “I mean, not that you didn’t do a great job of…”
“Listen, you’re the one with the brown belt. All I did was yell and shove Jeremy out of the way of a couple of killer paparazzi. I couldn’t take on a real threat! I don’t think there’s a thing wrong with feeling relieved to have a little help, even if we are awesome paragons of female strength and ability.”
I grin as I say this last part, because I most certainly do not think I am in any way prepared for real danger in the near future. I know Jimmy “The Heartbreaker” Valentine tried his best with me back at Gotham Roses Central, but practice only goes so far when real life intervenes. What in the world was I thinking, jumping into something like this?
It doesn’t matter that the morning’s “threat” hadn’t been a real attack, the people involved had all been frightened and I sense there is something mo
re sinister going on than I’ve been told.
Chapter 3
“You will absolutely not believe this,” I tell Emma. I am lying on my back, staring up at a huge canopy that covers the antique bed in the guest cottage, pinching myself as I study my surroundings and try to describe them to my friend.
“First of all, the ‘ranch’ as they call it, is hardly a ranch at all, at least not from what I can see. Remember that time we decided we wanted to get healthy and we went to Canyon Ranch in Tucson? It’s like that, only I bet the food’s better and the scenery is a definite improvement.”
Emma sees right through this. “Who is he?” she demands.
I roll over onto my stomach, look out the floor-length window and watch as Andrea emerges from the house, a frozen margarita in hand, to stroll beside the sparkling blue pool.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bug, there is no way you would be waxing rhapsodic about the Canyon Ranch without there being some sort of specimen of male beauty involved. Remember the cowboy who took us out on that God-awful trail ride? You went on and on about how lovely your ride was for days, and that after your horse tried to run you off a canyon wall and we both came back with saddle sores, stinking to high heaven!”
I close my eyes against the memory. “Em, really, this place is just sweet, that’s all. Private and too cute.”
“So there’s not even one good-looking man, aside from Jeremy Reins that is, on the entire property who meets the criteria?”
“Criteria?” I echo, knowing full well what she means.
“You wouldn’t sleep with any man you’ve seen so far? I mean, excluding Jeremy because he’s gay.”
“Well, Em, that’s what I was going to tell you—Jeremy is not gay, I mean, not totally.” I try to distract her with the paparazzi-in-the-baggage-cart story, and for awhile, Emma is at least interested.
“The man had a camera and you tackled Jeremy?”
“Well, yeah. What else was I going to do? I thought it was a gun.”
“So, you don’t think anyone is really after him then?” Emma sounds just a bit relieved.
“Well, I don’t know for sure. Jeremy seemed shaken by the episode, as if he expected trouble.”
“Hmmm. Bug, are you sure you’ll be all right? Have you told Renee about this?”
I roll off the bed and walk over to stare out the window, watching as Jeremy, Sam and Mark walk out onto the pool deck and join Andrea at the cabana bar. I watch Sam’s easy, long-legged stride and think he’d be quite something if he’d only been given a personality to match that body of his.
“Bug! Hel-lo! Have you told Renee?”
“Told her what?”
“All right, that’s it! What is going on and what is his name?”
I turn my back on the window and focus on Emma. “No, I haven’t spoken with Renee. I didn’t think I had enough to report about yet, but I’ll call her tonight.”
“And his name?”
“Sam,” I say, miserably. “God, Emma, how do you know me so well? This man is gorgeous, a real cowboy, but he is an absolute jerk. He’s rude and overbearing—”
“And has a body to die for, I’ll bet,” she interrupts.
“Totally.”
“Walk away, Bug. You’re there to do a job, not get laid.”
“I would never!”
Emma laughs. “Yes, you would and we both know it! But really, honey, this is risky business.”
I feel myself getting defensive and tell her, “Emma, I was only teasing about the cowboy. I know this is dangerous and I’m giving it my full attention. Besides, Jeremy’s agent’s wife, Andrea, says the guy is actually Jeremy’s manager. He’s from Jeremy’s old hometown—so checking him out was just part of looking at the whole picture. I mean, the guy could be the one behind all this, although I doubt it. Andrea says he was Jeremy’s drama teacher in high school.”
“Get out!” she says. “So he’s an old guy?”
I laugh. “Older, not old. Experienced is more like it.”
A loud knock at the cabin door startles me and I have to hang up quickly with Emma. Dave and Scott are standing there when I open the door, holding Marlena’s reassembled cage between them.
“Where do you want this?” Dave asks. The look on his face says, “This is so-o-o not our job!”
“In the corner,” I answer, pointing to the living room.
As they work to position it, I decide that I should begin doing some serious investigation, starting with these two. I walk over to them and smile, completely phony and I’m sure they know this, but what else can I do?
“That is so-o-o sweet of you to do this for me,” I gush. “I know it’s not your job.”
Scott ignores me, but Dave looks up briefly and gives me a small smile.
“Jeremy just raves about you two,” I say.
Scott raises one eyebrow, and I think I hear him mutter, “Yeah, I bet.”
“He says you two are the reason that stalker person hasn’t been able to get near him. He told me I shouldn’t worry about our safety as long as you’re here.”
Dave’s thick chest seems to puff out even further and I see a flush of red begin to creep up the back of his neck.
“I don’t know about that,” he says.
“Well, you two were the ones who chased that man off at the airport, weren’t you?” I ask. “You saved the day! And to think, I was almost too afraid to come out here. People told me it was dangerous.”
“Who told you that?” Scott demands, straightening and looking me in the eye for the first time. He sounds like a drill instructor and for a moment I feel intimidated.
“I…I don’t remember who exactly….” I widen my eyes and try to look clueless. “Is it safe? I mean, has he gotten onto the estate?”
“Someone started a fire in Jeremy’s downstairs office last week,” Dave volunteers, but stops as Scott gives him a warning look.
“A fire? Oh, my God! And the person who set it got away?”
“It was nothing, really. Someone forgot to put out their cigarette and the smoldering butt caught some trash on fire. It was not,” Scott says, glaring at Dave, “a stalker.”
I cock my head sideways and meet Scott’s eyes. “You’ve had a lot of experience guarding celebrities, haven’t you?” I ask. “I mean, I’ve known a lot of security people and I can tell the ones who’ve been around and know the business, the good ones.”
Scott’s eyes narrow warily, but he answers. “About ten years, since I left the military. I guess I know my way around.”
I nod, like he’s confirming what I thought. “What branch of the military?”
“Army. Special Forces.”
“I thought so!” I cry. “I can always tell.”
The tiniest beginnings of a smile touch the corners of Scott’s lips and I know I’ve won him.
“So, I guess you’ve got your ideas about this business with Jeremy,” I say, hoping he’ll go along with me.
“Scott thinks…” Dave begins, then stops as Scott silences him with another look.
“These things happen all the time to movie people,” he begins. “It’s no big deal.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You know, I heard Jeremy was doing it himself, as a publicity stunt, then someone else started up for real.”
Dave gives it away. “Damn,” he breathes. “How did you…”
“We’d better get going,” Scott says. “We’ve got to get back. Don’t worry, ma’am. I can assure you that you’ll be perfectly safe. Enjoy your stay.”
With that, the two men hustle out the door and leave me to stare after them. Marlena stirs and lifts her head, sees the cage and begins clicking in my ear, missing her hammock and ready to leave her perch on my shoulders.
“All right, baby,” I murmur. “Go play. Mommy has to go talk to the nice people about guns and fire.”
Marlena scampers out of my arms and into her cage, sniffing and exploring happily as I leave her to walk out
by the pool. I wish my life were as simple as Marlena’s. She wasn’t worried in the least about rescuing Jeremy Reins from a deranged stalker, or whoever it was that was causing the trouble. Marlena never had to worry about whether or not she was capable of saving someone’s life. She certainly never had to worry about choosing bad men or leaving a mark on the universe. No, she wasn’t the one paying a therapist to tell her that she pursues unavailable men because her biological father abandoned her and her step-father is too busy to become a real father to her.
As I reach the edge of the poolside deck, I see Andrea break off from her conversation with Mark and turn to smile at me warmly, raising a hand to beckon me over.
“You’re just in time,” she says as I draw closer. “Maybe you can settle this argument I’ve been having with him.”
“Argument?” I echo.
Before she can speak, Sam the cowboy interrupts. He’s behind the bar, still wearing his hat and the scowl that I assume is permanently frozen on his face, but when I look up and our eyes unavoidably lock, I feel an electric current race through my body and settle somewhere deep inside me where it hums like a homing signal.
“What can I get you?” he asks.
“What?” For a moment I am thrown off and can’t seem to remember the English language. What is the matter with me? Why isn’t it enough to know he’s one of them, the psychological poison my therapist calls “emotionally unavailable”? Why can’t I just know and walk away? But there I stand, stammering like a complete idiot and staring at the man like he’s just walked out of an alien spaceship. I’m hopeless.
“Would you like a drink?” he asks, saying each word slowly, like he realizes I’ve lost the ability to understand him.
“A drink?” Oh, my God, snap out of it! “Yes, yes I would. Thank you!”
When he is still staring at me, I blink and wonder what’s wrong now.
Jeremy has somehow come into the picture and waves a hand in front of my eyes and says, “I think the man is asking what you want to drink, lovey. You know, like a margarita or a Diet Coke. You know, liquid beverage.”
That snaps me to. I give him a sharp look and turn to Sam. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking. I believe I’ll have a mar…Diet Coke, please.”
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